A Change of Heart
by GemmaH
Summary: Christmas in Chicago is little more than a duty visit for Edward Cullen, but that's before he gets the call that will change his life together. A birthday fic collaboration for Sparrownotes24 by Chocaholic123 & GemmaH. ExB eventually!
1. Chapter 1

**Dear Sparrow, do you remember G's obsession with Bellisle? Well Happy Birthday! Don't ask how long this is going to be because the likelihood is we will never finish it. Love G and T**

**A Change of Heart**

**Chapter 1**

"One more before I go. Please?" I grab his shirt in my fist, twisting the material as I pull him closer again.

"You're never satisfied," he tells me, his lips holding that dirty smirk right up until they touch mine. I savor him momentarily before breaking away.

"I never heard you complaining before," I say.

"And I'm not complaining now," he replies, letting his tongue sweep along my bottom lip in the moment before his mouth closes on mine again. He pulls away, groaning as his phone rings.

"I'll see you later," I say, re-fastening the buttons on my blouse.

"You will," he promises.

~ **aCoH** ~

"I'm sorry," he says as he lets me in. "I couldn't get away any sooner." He closes the front door and walks toward me until I'm backed up to the wall. He leans in to kiss me and I make the most of every moment. The first kiss whenever I see him is like a drink of water in a dusty, hot desert. Every. Single. Time. It's almost worth saying goodbye for.

I drop the shopping bags on the floor, hearing the wine bottles clink. If they're spilling out right now, I don't even care.

"I'm ready for the first course," he says, hurriedly pushing my jacket off my shoulders and tugging it down my arms. I giggle at the way he rushes, as if he can't wait a moment longer. He pops the button on my jeans and tugs the zipper down, kneeling in front of me as he peels them down my legs. I kick my shoes off and lift my feet as he pulls the dark blue denim over them and off, discarding them inside out. He has me down to my bra and panties before I can even get my thoughts in order to complain about the unfairness of the fact he's still fully clothed.

He reaches for my bra straps but I cross my arms in front of my chest, placing my hands over the strips of elastic so he can't get to them.

"Uh-uh," I say, shaking my head. "Your turn."  
>"Bella…"<p>

I smirk and raise an eyebrow.

"No way, mister. Get naked. Now." He looks around the hall.

"Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable."

I'd love nothing more than sinking onto his bed with him, but I get a kick out of pushing him out of his comfort zone. I've been making a habit of it lately.

"I want you here," I tell him, standing back against the wall and spreading my arms out to the side, pressing my palms against the cold surface. "I'm going to wrap my legs around your waist and you're going to fuck me against this wall until the neighbours complain."

His eyes glaze over a little.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he murmurs. Suddenly he's all action, unfastening the top couple of buttons of his button-down and then impatiently yanking it over his head. He almost falls as his legs get tangled in his pants and I laugh, despite my best efforts not to. He grins at me, pulling off first one sock and then the other. Finally his boxers drop down to the ground and he kicks them away as he lunges at me.

He lifts me and I wrap myself around him, exactly like I promised, gasping loudly as he slides inside and slams me against the wall. I cry out, blissful as he drives himself into me again and again. He tries to shush me, but that only makes me worse as I let my body hit the wall hard with each stroke. He finally sends me over the edge as someone on the other side of the wall begins hammering their annoyance. I'm too far gone to care, squeezing his waist with my thighs and yelling his name as he comes inside me.

We collapse onto the floor, too spent to do anything other than giggle.

"I have to look those people in the eye outside these four walls, you know," Carlisle says, poking me playfully in the ribs and making me squirm.

"When you can fuck like that, you should be able to look anyone in the eye," I tell him. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Can we eat now? I'm starving."

~ **aCoH **~

"Edward arrives home for Christmas next Friday," Carlisle tells me as we sit at the table eating, me wrapped in his robe and him in a Cubs t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Ah, shit," I say.

"Hey! That's my boy!"

I smile apologetically.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "You know I'm only pissed because I miss you when he's around."

"I did offer to tell him about us. Remember? You were the one that said no."

"I know, and I stand by that decision." I spear another piece of pasta and lift it to my mouth as Carlisle shakes his head and pushes his own food around his plate.

"Hey," I scold him. He looks up.

"What?"

"Stop torturing yourself. It's fine. _We're _fine. I love you, but it's easier this way. I can live without the judgemental looks and snarky comments. I kind of like being your dirty little secret." I stretch my leg out and place my foot between his thighs, nudging him with my toes. He reaches down and gently eases my foot away.

"And what if I'm tired of having a dirty little secret?" he asks, his blue eyes challenging me to come up with a solution.

"Are you?" I ask in return, resting my fork down on the edge of my plate, as worry creeps in and begins to nip at the edges of my conscience.

"I just want you," he says. I don't miss the pleading edge to his voice. "Without the secrecy and the sneaking and the code words and the lying." He rhymes off the list of social sins of which we're guilty.

"You almost sound like you want to make an honest woman of me," I scoff. He looks away and smirks a little; a secret smile that completely gives away the fact he's considered it.

"Don't even think about asking, if you can't handle the rejection," I warn him, picking up my wine glass and emptying half its contents into my mouth in one go. I may be panicking a little.

He watches me carefully. He's an intelligent man; intuitive. I feel as naked now as I did when he was fucking me against the wall.

"Stop it," I tell him, my gaze flickering nervously between him and anything other than him.

"Stop what?" He's amused, pushing _me_ from _my_ comfort zone now.

"Reading me like that. I hate it."

He sits back and laughs.

"You think I can read you?" he asks.

"I know you can," I say, picking my fork back up and stabbing another piece of pasta.

"You want me to tell you what you're thinking?"

"Hell, no. I know what I'm thinking, I don't need to hear you say it."

"Don't need to or don't want to?" Carlisle asks, picking up the wine bottle and refilling both glasses.

"Smart-ass," I shoot back. He smiles.

"Are you staying over?"

I sigh as I lift my glass to my mouth, pausing to answer his question

"I can't, my dad's on a late, he'll go out of his mind if I'm not there when he gets home."

He's silent, brooding almost, and now I can read him just as well as he could, me.

He wants to push me again, list the benefits of going public to make himself feel better about the fact he's secretly dating a girl eighteen years his junior. There's nothing he can do about the age gap, but the secrecy he can remedy, and as he justifies it to everyone else, so he'll finally be able to justify it to himself.

That's what I tell myself, at least. As far as I'm concerned, going public means one thing:

Inviting everyone else to have an opinion, and I can live without that kind of negativity in my life.

**~aCoH~**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Happy Birthday+4 days Sparrow ;). **

**Thanks for the response to the first chapter, the next update will be New Year's Eve!**** GemmaH & Chocaholic123 xx**

**Chapter 2**

**Edward**

"Don't go." Lauren rolls over, fitting her body to mine, her long thick hair brushing against my shoulders, making them itch. Hooking her calf over my thigh, she presses against me. "Stay here for Christmas. I'll let you fill my stockings."

I turn onto my back, flinging my arm across my eyes to block out the afternoon sunlight. Though it's midwinter, the light bounces off the snow-covered sill, making it sharper. Harsher, somehow.

"Babe, I promised." I sigh because we've had this conversation about twenty times already. Lauren wants me to spend Christmas with her family just outside of Boston. "You know I can't leave my dad on his own."

This is the first Christmas since my folks split up. In celebration my mom's decided to spend the holidays in Florida with her sister, which leaves my dad and me. And though I'm not particularly impressed by the way my dad treated her, he's still my dad, and he shouldn't be alone.

Lauren runs her finger down my bare chest. "It won't be the same without you. I wanted to introduce you to my parents."

And that's another reason I'm not going, though I don't tell her that. "Maybe at spring break," I murmur. Her finger drops lower, past my stomach, and I hold my breath.

That gives me a few months to think of another excuse. Not that I need one. I've so much studying to do, Lauren will be lucky if I can get away before _next_ Christmas. I've already half-filled my suitcase with textbooks and papers. At least it's quiet at my dad's house. Distraction-free.

"I guess I'll just have to show you what you're missing then." Lauren clambers over me, kneeling up, her thighs either side of my hips. Her long hair brushes against my chest as she presses her mouth to my stomach, to my hip, then slowly drags it further down.

"You do that," I say, trying to swallow down a gasp as she envelopes me with her lips. The inside of her mouth is warm and soft, and my balls tighten as she hollows her cheeks. I close my eyes as all thoughts of studying and home fly out of my mind, and the sound of my moans fills the room.

**~aCoH~**

I arrive at O'Hare just after six in the morning and take a cab to my dad's apartment just off Lakeshore drive. While he and my mom are arguing about money through their lawyers, he's decided to rent the biggest, most expensive apartment he could find. Whether this is a big fuck-you to my mom, or a mid-life crisis, I can't quite work out.

Tipping the cab driver, I grab my case and step out onto the sidewalk. A bitter wind blows from across the lake, cutting straight through my padded jacket and making me shiver involuntarily. Unlike Boston there's no snow on the ground, but somehow it feels colder. I pull my beanie a little further down my head to keep my ears warm.

The entrance to the apartment block is manned by a uniformed security guard, who glances up as soon as I push my way through the revolving door. My shoes slap against the marble tiled floor as I make my way to the desk, and the sound echoes across the high-ceilinged room.

"Edward Cullen," I say. "My father rents 614."

He taps on his keyboard a couple of times then looks up at me with a genuine smile. "Of course, Mr. Cullen. Welcome to Broadmont Towers. Do you have your key?"

I tap the pocket of my jacket, though the padding's so thick I can't feel anything. "Yeah he sent it over. And it's Edward. My dad's Mr. Cullen."

"You home for the holidays?" He glances at my case.

"Yep. Staying 'til New Year then it's back to Harvard."

"Postgrad?" he asks.

I nod. "Law."

"My daughter's studying medicine at Northwestern." His lips curl; the smile of a proud father.

"It's a good school," I say. "I thought about it but..." I trail off, shrugging. This guy is just shooting the breeze, not asking for my life story. There's no need to tell him about the shouting matches that were the soundtrack to my parents' dying marriage. About the fights that lasted for days. The bitter words and the angry tears. I couldn't get out of Chicago fast enough.

"I guess I'll see you around."

"You sure will." He touches the peak of his hat in salute, and I shoot him a final grin, picking up my suitcase and heading over to the bank of elevators. I press the button and watch as the red display counts down the floors from six to one. When the doors open I swing my case in front of me, about to step through, when a woman runs out, almost body-slamming me. Her brown hair flies across her face.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking." Her voice is breathless. She barely slows down, and I turn to watch her run across the lobby, her high heels clicking against the floor. And though I've never been in this building before there's something familiar about her. I stare at her retreating form for a moment too long, and the elevator doors begin to close.

Jabbing the button, I push my way through them, putting my case down on the carpeted floor. Then the doors close and all trace of the lobby and the girl are obscured by dull, grey steel.

Less than two minutes later I let myself into the apartment, listening as the deadbolts slide easily through the reinforced door. I push it open, stepping into the impressive entranceway.

"Dad?" I call out.

"Edward!" My dad walks out of what I presume is his bedroom clutching a razor. His chest is bare, his hips swathed in a towel. His cheeks are half covered in shaving foam. "I didn't expect you for another hour."

"I sent you my itinerary." I frown. My dad's usually meticulous about punctuality. It's not like him to get things wrong. "My flight arrived right on time."

"Good journey?" He reaches his free hand out and I take it. We shake amicably.

"It was fine. Early, but fine."

A buzzing interrupts us, and my dad snatches his phone from the side table. It's a shiny new iPhone, and I frown, because my dad's never been interested in smart phones. Yet I watch as he slides his hands across and reads his message, a smile sliding it's way across his lips. He taps out a few words then puts it down.

He's still smiling.

"Good news?" I ask.

"Just the office. Somebody wants to organize a meeting with me."

"Uh uh." I don't ask him why his secretary is messaging him at six thirty in the morning, because I really don't want to know. Though I'm guessing that either she's a workaholic or he's banging her. Either way, I don't really want to know.

"I'm gonna finish shaving and then maybe we can grab a coffee before work." Dad waves his razor at me. "You okay to find your way around?" he asks.

"I've got it," I say, deadpan.

This time the smile he flashes is just for me. "It's good to have you home, son."

**~aCoH~**


	3. Chapter 3

****A/N - Happy New Year, wherever in the world you are!****

****We've been asked if this is a Bella/Carlisle story, or a Bella/Edward one. Ultimately the pairing will be ExB. Hope this helps :)****

**Chapter 3**

"You made me late for work," I whisper into my phone, grumbling, but with a smile on my face. I'm alone in the office, but Marcus has his door open.

"And you made me forget about Edward arriving. I was only just out of the shower when he arrived."

My heart leapt at the close call we'd had. An image forms in my head of Edward walking in on us _in flagrante._

"Shit. If he were to find out like that…If he were to find out at all…"

"He has plans tomorrow night," Carlisle says, the hint of suggestion in his words. "He has something organized with his friends."

"No! Are you even listening? One close call is enough."

"I can get away though. I want to see you. This morning was amazing but I want to take my time."

Smiling as I remember, I don't take any further convincing.

"Okay. Where, though?" My fingers trace the wood-grain pattern on the surface of my desk as I think. "You want to book in somewhere? It feels a little sleazy."

"Sleazy's bad?" he asks. "I kind of like it."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I glance up as a movement in Marcus' office catches my eye. "I have to go," I whisper.

"Okay, leave it with me, I'll let you know where and when," he says. "I love you."

"I love you too."

**~aCoH~**

Carlisle texts me the name of a resort just out of town. He won't be able to make it until later, he says, but I should go on ahead earlier because he's booked me some treats at the spa. Deciding to do just that, I lie to Marcus about having an appointment, and duck out early. It's not as icy cold outside as it was this morning, so I'm not surprised as a light snowfall begins to drift down as I pull out of the underground parking garage.

The snow doesn't really get any worse. By the time I pull into the parking lot at the resort, there's still barely a covering of white on the ground and I finally relax as I check in.

The room is tastefully decorated, clean and clearly cost a fortune. The deep, rich tones of the wooden furniture make it feel warm, even with the floor to ceiling doors that fill one wall and lead onto the balcony, showing the wintry scene outside. I glance at the time and, eager not to be late for the appointments Carlisle has arranged, I take a quick shower and head down to the spa.

Carlisle arrives several hours later.

"Hi!" he says, a grin spreading across his face as he closes the door behind him, locking it as he sees me reclined on the bed wearing a set of new lacy black underwear I treated myself to on my lunch break. He shrugs out of his overcoat, wet with snow, and hangs it carefully up, following with his suit jacket. His tie comes over his head and he drops it onto the desk before he bends down and removes his shoes. "Are you having fun?" he asks me as he crawls onto the bed on all fours, not stopping until his body is right above mine.

"Yeah, it's been good," I tell him. "But I think it's about to get better." I hook my hand behind his neck and pull his face to mine, meeting his lips and kissing him, long and lazy. When he finally rolls slowly to the side, he brings me with him so I'm lying on him now. I push myself up and sit on him, knees either side of his hips.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he says, reaching out to touch my hair as it hangs loose around my face and down over my shoulders. "Be with me, Bella."

I laugh and roll my eyes. Here we go. "I _am_ with you," I tell him as I begin to unbutton his shirt, pulling it loose from the waistband of his pants as I get it open to the bottom.

"You know what the fuck I mean," he says, as I lean forward and take his nipple into my mouth, grazing it with my teeth. He grabs my hips with a gasp and I sit back, circling them.

"_Be_ with me," he repeats, his eyes rolling back as I press myself down onto him again. "Properly. _Publicly_."

"Nuh-uh." I look him squarely in the eye, letting the lust chase away the panic for now. I unfasten his pants, lifting myself up and edging down the bed, pulling them with me as I go. When I have them completely removed, I stand and fold them carefully, placing them over a chair, before going back and pulling off his socks and boxers too as he shrugs his arms from his shirt.

As I climb back onto the bed, he reaches out, grabbing my arm and tugging me forward, until I fall into a heap at his side. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me.

"Please," he whispers, between kisses. I ignore him, instead pushing myself down the bed, kissing his chest, his stomach, and then-

"Hey!" He slides away from me, and reaches down to tilt my face up to look at him. "Don't pretend you can't hear me."

"I can hear you," I say, reaching out for him. He bends his knees, draws himself further away, out of reach.

"Then answer me." His fingers travel over my body and my breathing falters slightly.

"You know my answer. I'm not about to change my mind just to get you off faster."

He shifts across the bed suddenly, making room for himself between my legs. The forcefulness of his movements makes me groan.

"You think agreeing to go public on this will get me off faster?" he demands, pulling my bra down roughly.

"You think that by challenging me, I'll give in to prove a point?" I ask, gasping loudly as he pulls my panties to one side and pushes inside me.

He doesn't answer.

I guess we're done talking for now.

**~aCoH~**

"I don't wanna leave," I whine, snuggling further into his side. He laughs quietly, pulling me closer and kissing my head.

"Me neither, but you know we have to."

"I know. I know."

It's one o'clock in the morning. I have to be home for my dad, and Carlisle for his son; such is the fucked-up world we inhabit.

He throws the covers back and extracts himself from me so he can get up.

"Shower?" he asks, reaching his hand out to me.

"Sure."

The shower is a huge, walk-in affair with plenty of room for two. We're spent, not a sexual itch left unscratched, and so we spend our time touching one another tenderly as we get clean.

Once we get out and dry, it doesn't take nearly long enough for us to be ready for the road.

The snow is coming heavier as we leave the comfort of the cosy resort building, and step into the cold, outside air. I'm really not looking forward to driving in it.

Carlisle helps me to my car, leaning in to kiss me.

"I'm just going to check out, then I'll be right behind you," he tells me. "I love you."

"I love you too," I say. "Drive carefully."

"I will," he assures me. He turns back once to wave, then he's gone and I'm pulling away.

**~aCoH~**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - Sorry so many of you had problems accessing the last chapter, hopefully everyone's up to date now and ffnet is behaving itself for this update!**

**We hope you all had a great New Year. Here's to a happy and healthy 2015 :)**

**Chapter 4**

Walking into O'Reilly's is like stepping back in time. I'm only just inside the doorway when I'm assailed by the familiar aroma of alcohol and hot bodies, and it doesn't fail to put a smile on my face. O'Reilly's claims to be an authentic Irish pub, but it's about as Irish as I am. I still have a soft spot for it; it's the first bar that I scored an underage drink from, and it's the place where I meet up with friends whenever we're back in town.

I spot them standing in the corner, next to a fire that's so authentic I can practically smell burning flesh. Emmett leans on the wall next to it, wearing only a t-shirt and jeans, a half-empty pint glass of Guinness in his hand.

"Cullen!" He spots me straight away, gesturing me over with a hook of his arm. "You made it. Finally."

We greet each other with a half hug, half fist bump, then he messes with my hair which he knows pisses me off. I shake the few wet snowflakes that cling to it in his direction, and he steps back in mock horror.

"So tell me, was it the weather that kept you in, or did your dad not extend your curfew?"

"Weather?" I laugh. "You call this wet, limp shit snow? I can't believe a light dusting's brought the whole fucking city to a halt." If that happened in Boston, we wouldn't go to school for half the year. Though right about now that sounds kinda attractive.

"What you drinking, bro?" Emmet calls over the bartender, and I order a Guinness. I'm not particularly fond of the black stuff, but hey, it works. When the head finally settles into a half-inch of froth, I pick up the glass and bang it against Emmett's.

"Cheers." I bring the glass to my mouth, letting the Guinness spill over my tongue. It's earthy and meaty and just as disgusting as I remember it, but it's a tradition of sorts; Irish ale with my half-Irish friend in the least Irish pub in town. And for some reason, this year more than ever, I'm clinging to tradition.

"How's Laura?" Emmett asks, placing his drained glass on the bar. There's a line of white froth across the crease of his top lip, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand.

"Lauren," I correct him. "Is fine. Pissed with me, but fine."

"Pissed? Whatcha do, give her a fake purse for Christmas?"

Emmett met Lauren last Summer, just after we started dating. He came to visit for a few days just before Labor day. Within an hour of meeting Lauren he'd nicknamed her 'Lawyer Barbie', a moniker that didn't endear him to Lauren. By the second day of his visit she'd travelled home to spend time with her sister, and Emmett was like the cat that got the cream.

"Nah, she didn't want me to come home for Christmas."

"Of course she didn't," Emmett booms. "God forbid you actually have a bit of fun."

"She's not that bad." I feel obliged to defend her. "Just because you've had a bad experience with blondes, doesn't mean they're all bad." As soon as I say it, I want to take it back. Em was stitched up by his girlfriend last year; he walked into their apartment to find her on her knees. Unfortunately, her face was buried in her boss's crotch.

"Women, they're all the same. They screw you then screw you over. Take it from me, man, they're not worth the tears."

He sounds bitter, because he is. He and Rose were together since high school. They were voted the Couple most Likely to Make It. As always, the predictions of seventeen year olds fell sadly off base. This is coming from The Guy Most Likely to Walk on the Moon.

A few hours later, we stagger out of O'Reilly's with stomachs full of beer and ears ringing with the sounds of Christmas songs. Em sees some friends from work having a smoke outside and stops to shoot the breeze with them, while I attempt to hail a cab. The weather has turned bitter-cold, the wet slushy snow freezing on the ground, making the sidewalk slick and slippery. The city gritters are out en masse, depositing salt on the roads as they trundle through the streets, melting the ice into murky grey puddles.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, snow frosting up the screen. I wipe it with my gloved hand then pull my hand free, the cold biting around my finger as I swipe it across the glass.

There's a message from Lauren telling me she misses me, and that I should call her when I get back. Though it's sweet, I also figure it's a reminder-not that I need it-that I should be going home alone, and that if I don't call from a silent apartment I'm going to be in trouble. She's had boyfriends cheat on her before and that makes her a little needy, but nothing that I can't handle.

The sixth cab that passes has its light on, and when I lift my hand it pulls to a stop in front of me. I call over to Em, who says goodbye to his friend, and the two of us climb inside the toasty warm interior. I lean forward to give my dad's address, but Em puts a hand on my shoulder, gently pulling me back.

"The Peppermint Lounge," he says, making the cab driver raise an eyebrow.

"Em," I warn. "That's a strip joint. I'm not up for that."

"Why not?" There's a glassy look in his eyes. "Will Barbie not like it?" He says that last bit in a baby-voice.

"I don't like it. There's nothing sexy about paying a girl to take off her clothes."

"Sure there is," Em protests. "If you haven't seen a naked girl for almost six months, there's something very sexy about it. "It's fucking Christmas, I'm all on my own and I'd like to go to a strip joint with my best friend. What's wrong with that?"

Rolling my eyes, I say nothing, which is probably the coward's way out. And within twenty minutes we're pulling up outside the green neon lights of the Peppermint Lounge. Em scrambles out of the cab, shoving some bills into the cab driver's hand. There's a grin on his face as we walk into the club and pay the extortionate cover charge that guarantees us a table and a cocktail.

That's when my phone starts to buzz again.

**~aCoH~**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Hey, Dad."

Dammit. I'd been hoping he wouldn't answer; that I'd be let off the hook. "Hello?" he says again. "Hello?" The sharp edge of annoyance cuts through his voice now. I wince and take a deep breath.

"Edward?"

"Who wants to know?" From the way he answered his phone, he obviously thought it was Carlisle calling, and I'm clearly not him.

"Uh…" I pause, delaying, as I've delayed even making the call for the past ten minutes. "I'm calling about your dad. He's been in an accident. His car-"

"Is he okay? Where is he?" he says, panic roughly shoving his annoyance to one side.

"He's at Northwestern. Can you come?" I ask.

"Yeah, of course...Uhh...I'm just...Shit." I can hear him moving, speaking to somebody else, relaying the limited details I'd given him. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he says and abruptly ends the call.

I drop Carlisle's phone into my purse and rub my hands together. The fresh air I thought I needed while I waited for news, is pressing its freezing fingers onto every inch of bare skin it can find. I decide the dry, oppressive heat of the hospital is favorable to this, and turn to walk back through the automatic doors into the hospital.

I'd been almost home when I'd got the call. Three minutes tops, before I drew into the driveway. Instead I executed a crazy u-turn from the spot I'd pulled over into to take the call, putting my foot down and speeding toward the hospital. Thinking a little more rationally now, it was a miracle I hadn't caused an accident myself.

My number was the most recent one called on his phone, they said. The one that featured the most, so they'd surmised I was the obvious person to call. The thought that they may have called Edward instead chilled me more thoroughly than the icy air outside, because he wouldn't have let me know. How could he? He doesn't even know about me.

I push the thought away and concentrate on getting back to the trauma center to wait for news.

I catch a passing nurse by the arm as she rushes by, but she looks at me blankly and tells me to take a seat.

"Someone will be out to see you as soon as they know anything," she says, rushing away again. I hate hospitals with a passion. Still, I do as I'm told and sit down in the waiting area amongst the anxious and angry, the tired and tense. I pull my phone out to pass the time, but see the battery is running pretty low, so I put it away again and take Carlisle's out instead. It's not the same as mine, and as I try to open the internet browser app, I do something that causes his email inbox to open instead. They're mostly work-related, but as I'm about to close the app, my eye is drawn to one from _J. Jenks & Co. Jewelers, _and has the subject line 'Your order update'.

I'm torn. I'm not a snooper by nature, but the way Carlisle's been dropping hints and pressing me for more lately, is enough to make me think that I know what this could be about. And if it is, I want to know. I think. Or maybe I don't.

I'm still deliberating with my finger hovering above the screen, when a voice beside me says my name. I look up, scrambling to my feet when I see a doctor standing there.

"He's awake and asking for you," she tells me. "Do you want to see him?"

"Of course."

"I should warn you, he has a number of lacerations and contusions to his face with some swelling. It's all superficial, but you should prepare yourself."

"Okay," I say with a nod, entirely unsure of whether I actually am or not. It's too late now though, because she's turned and walked away and I'm hurrying to keep up with her. "His son's on his way." I'm unsure why I felt the need to divulge this particular piece of information, but I guess I felt the need to tell someone. I'm already dreading how this is all going to play out.

The doctor - her name slips right out of my head the moment she tells me - leads me through the busy trauma center, until she pulls aside a curtain, allowing me to follow her before she closes it again.

The man on the gurney is a horrifying version of the one I kissed goodbye only a few hours ago. She was right when she warned me about his injuries, and yet I feel as unprepared for them as if I hadn't known. I bite back the tears a fraction of a second too late, and two strong lines of salt water track down my cheeks.

"Oh!" I clap my hand over my mouth. The doctor gives me a guilt-inducing look, and I manage to pull myself together, swallowing all of my horrified reactions back down and jamming a lid on them. I walk slowly around to his side and he turns his head a little to look at me. "Hey," I say, then come up short. _How are you?_ is clearly ridiculous, and I manage to stop it automatically falling from my lips.

"Hi." His voice is croaky and it clearly takes huge effort for him to speak. "Edward?" he asks.

"He's on his way," I say, moving to take his hand, before noticing they're in pretty bad shape too. "I called him."

Carlisle's eyes open a little wider and I sense more than see the question in them. "I didn't say who I was," I tell him. "He rang off pretty quickly."

"Will you stay?" he asks.

I freeze as it occurs to me he thinks I'll leave him here like this, just to avoid Edward knowing about us. I guess that right there - that hurtful assumption - is what I get for my attitude toward his pleas to go public.

"Of course I'll stay, I had no intention of leaving you," I tell him. He smiles as much as he's able, moves his head back and closes his eyes. I look in alarm at the nurse who's fussing over some machinery on the other side of him. She sees my panic and smiles calmly.

"We gave him morphine for the pain," she says. "It's perfectly normal."

I nod my head.

"Thank you."

**~aCoH~**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - Thanks for all the love! We're thrilled so many of you are enjoying the story - especially you, Sparrownotes24 ;)**

**Chapter 6**

When you get older you shake off childish things. The intense, almost overwhelming, excitement that comes with Christmas and birthdays, the constant need for something sweet on your tongue, those late nights lying in bed paralysed by the crippling fear that your parents might die and you'll be left all alone. But as I sit in a cab that takes its time winding through the snowy streets of Chicago, that aching panic comes right back to me. It curls its fingers around my throat, choking me, and I have to fight for every lungful of oxygen. My hand grips the door handle, my knuckles bleached white, as if I might pull it and escape any minute.

Emmett leans forward and murmurs something to the driver and he answers back, his accent thick. I'm aware of an ache in my chest that seems to be getting worse, and for some reason I start to panic that I might be having a heart attack.

"Five minutes, man." Em lays his hand on my shoulder. "That's what the driver says."

I nod, but any words are stuck in my throat. I turn away and look out of the window at the slushy Chicago streets, watching the way the orange street lamps blur into lines as we pass them. I'm not sure if it's our speed or the dampness in my eyes that make them do that.

In spite of the hour, the hospital is rammed. Ambulances fill the quad outside, lights flashing, voices shouting out commands. I look at the gurneys and wonder if one of them is carrying my dad, and the thought causes bile to rise in my stomach.

"Ed? We need to go inside."

"You don't need to come, I'll be okay." I think about the way his face lit up when we walked into the strip club and guilt adds itself to the cocktail of fear that speeds through my veins. I hadn't realised just how low he'd been feeling.

"Shut up." He pulls me through the sliding doors. "I'm not going anywhere."

The receptionist directs us to the trauma center at the back of the hospital, and I follow Em through whitewashed corridors that seem to twist and turn without making any sense. We pass people in the hallways-people who seem to know what they're doing-and they make me feel impotent and confused. Because I have no fucking idea what I'm doing here.

Eventually we're taken to a small waiting area at the left hand corner of the room. There's a water cooler with paper triangle cups, a half-full coffee pot that hisses and shakes on the hot plate, and a table full of magazines that blast out the latest celebrity scandal. There's only one other person here, a girl with dark brown hair that falls across her face. She's curled up into a ball, her knees tucked against her chest, arms wrapped around them, and she rocks a little back and forth. When she hears us walk in she looks up, hair falling away from her pale face, her chocolate brown eyes ringed with red.

"Edward?"

It's the last word I expect to come from her lips, and it takes me a minute to register them. Then I wrack my brain for where I've seen her before.

"Bella Swan?" Emmett works it out long before I do. I vaguely remember her from school. We didn't really run in the same crowds, but she was always friendly whenever we spoke.

"Emmett." She nods at him. There's a streak of mascara on her cheeks from where she's been crying. "It's been a while."

I'm about to ask her why she's here, who in her life has had an accident, when a nurse arrives, clipboard in hand. "Mrs Cullen," she says. "I'm going to need you to fill out some forms."

For a stupid moment I look around the room for my mom. And if I'm honest, I feel a rush of relief that loosens my chest enough to breathe. Because at this particular moment, being an adult is shit, and I really want it to stop.

But then I remember that Mom's in Florida, and there's no way she could have made it back so fast. Slowly, I turn to the only other person in the room apart from me and Em, and she's staring at the nurse with a horrified expression.

"No, shit, no, I'm not Carlisle's wife." She talks rapidly, stealing a glance at me. "I'm a... friend."

"Do you work with him?" Emmett asks. Bella shakes her head, and a piece of hair sticks to her cheek.

"We... we..." She closes her eyes for a moment, as if to center herself. A slow, ragged breath escapes from her lips and it looks as if she's finding it painful to breathe. I know how she feels.

"I need somebody to complete these forms," the nurse insists. Sighing, I take the clipboard from her, the small black print swimming before my eyes. But my mind is far away from insurance details and next of kin, centering on the lobby of my father's apartment block, and a pretty brunette who ran out of the elevator.

"You were there this morning," I say, not quite able to look at her. "At my father's apartment. You flew right past me."

I wait for her to tell me she lives next door, or that it wasn't her. I wait for her to come up with a reasonable explanation.

She doesn't.

"Edward, he wanted to tell you... it was me who said no. None of this is your father's fault, okay? The blame's all on me."

"Wait a minute," Emmett says, catching up with the situation. "Are you fucking Carlisle?" There's a note of incredulity in his voice that resonates through the room, reflecting the way I'm feeling right now.

Bella Swan? And my dad? That's, that's...

"Thats disgusting," I spit out. "You know he's still married, right?" Not that it ever bothered him. From what Mom's told me-and she was surprisingly tight lipped about the situation-Dad had a number of affairs while they were still together.

Bella's face falls. "They were separated when we met. I would never... I wouldn't do that. Break up a couple I mean."

"He's old enough to be your father." The cliche tumbles from my mouth. "Jesus, he's eighteen years older than you." I shake my head, my lip curling up in disdain. "Was it about his money?"

"Fuck you." She says it quietly, her softness removing the sting from the words. "It's not like that, not at all. I don't want anything to do with his money."

Against my will I believe her. I don't want to, though, because if she isn't after his money, there's a genuine possibility she actually likes my dad, and that conjures up all sorts of images in my brain that have no place in being there. He's my dad; it's hard enough to reconcile the fact he had sex with my mom, let alone that he's been rolling with a girl from my school.

For the first time I really look at her. In spite of her smudged make up and crazy hair, she's still stupidly beautiful. I understand exactly what my dad was getting from the bargain, but what the hell was she in it for?

"You want me to fill those in?" Emmett's voice reminds me that Bella and I aren't the only two people in the room. His offer is laughable, though; he wouldn't get past the personal details section, so I take the hint and sit down, taking the cap off the pen.

Filling the form with a neat hand, I'm all too aware of the murmured conversation taking place between Bella and Em. They're avoiding talk of the hospital, of my dad, instead they're catching up on old times, discussing mutual friends and what they're doing now. He tells her about splitting with Rose, and Bella commiserates, sounding genuinely sad for them both. All the while I feel this anger building up in my chest, pushing out at my ribcage, threatening to explode.

When I look up, she's staring right at me, her eyes soft with something that looks like compassion. And I hate that she feels sorry for me, and I hate that she's fucking my dad. But most of all I hate that she looks so damn beautiful sitting over there.

I hand the forms back into the nurses' station, and when I get back to the waiting area, a doctor is there, his scrubs tied loosely around his waist, his eyes lidded and tired. "Mr Cullen?" he asks.

I nod, and the band of anger around my chest tightens.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news."

**~aCoH~**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N - Several readers have asked how old the characters are here. Bella and Edward are twenty four years old, and Carlisle, at eighteen years older, is forty two. Hope this helps. Thanks for all of the support and feedback :)**

**Chapter 7**

"A chest x-ray has confirmed that your father has suffered a traumatic aortic disruption," the doctor says. I watch as Edward's face wrinkles, his brow lowering in confusion.

"A what?" he demands.

"His aorta, the main artery in the body, has been partially torn away from his heart."

"Jesus Christ."

I have no idea if the voice is my own or not, but either way it echoes my thoughts precisely. My legs give out and I land hard on the seat that is fortunately right behind me.

"Hey, are you okay?" Emmett asks, sitting beside me and placing a strong arm around my back.

"He's my father, why the hell are you comforting _her_?" I hear Edward spit, his voice searing with vitriol.

"Hey!" Emmett's voice is all no-bullshit stern. "Enough."

"No! It's not nearly enough! You're not his family," he says to me. "I want you to leave."

I manage to look up at him, and if I think I'm hurting, my pain is nothing compared to that showing on his face.

"I'm not leaving," I tell him. "He wants me here. He was asking for me." Emmett squeezes me for a moment, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down my arm.

"Call security," Edward says, turning to the doctor. "I want her gone."

"With all due respect, Mr Cullen, T.A.D. is a very serious condition. I wouldn't advise any of your father's loved ones to go anywhere, right now. He'll need surgery, but we have to get him stabilized."

"Can I see him?" Edward asks, as I slowly fall apart inside. "Alone?" He looks down at me, startlingly green eyes ablaze with at least a half dozen emotions, each one strong enough to drive any man to the edge of reason. His hair is standing up where he keeps pushing his fingers into it, and a couple of days scruff sits on his razor-edged jaw.

In short, even burning with anger, he looks glorious.

"Of course," the doctor says. I've been holding Edward's gaze, but now I force myself to look away. "Come with me."

"I'll be right here," Emmett tells him. Edward gives a dismissive nod and follows after the doctor, giving me space to exhale and slump back in the seat.

"I'm sorry," I say to Emmett. "I don't want to cause trouble, I just really need to be here." My strength crumbles to dust and the tears flood back, ugly sobs ripping painfully through me as I wrap my arms around my middle to hold myself together.

Emmett's surprisingly good company as we wait. He comforts me when I cry - which is often - listens when I talk and does his best to take my mind off what we're doing here.

When he asks if I know where the accident happened, I tell him.

"Itasca?" he says. "What the hell was he doing out there?"

Guilt crashes over me in a powerful wave.

"He wanted to see me and I didn't want to do it under Edward's nose. We met up at a resort; I left before him."

Emmett shook his head

"Stop! I can't with the visuals of Mr C…" He looks at me from the corner of his eye and I know exactly what's going through his head. Or I think I do. I really don't predict what he comes out with next. "So I'm trying to work out how you two met. Are you like, an escort or something?"

I look at him, wondering if I heard right. I detect the exact moment panic flashes in his eyes.

"I don't mean a hooker! You're obviously way too classy for that!" He chuckles nervously. "And, hey, I'm not judging. I mean, different strokes for different folks and all."

"You should stop now," I tell him. "And for the record, I'm not an escort. Or a hooker."

_You see? _I silently project to Carlisle. _This is exactly why I didn't want to make things public. _

It's another hour or so before a nurse comes in.

"Do you want to come through to see him?" she asks. I look nervously at Emmett.

"Is he okay? Where's Edward?"

"His son? He's still with him."

I hang back given this news.

"I… I'm not sure…"

"It's fine. He knows." She smiles and tilts her head to encourage me.

"Okay, I guess…"

Emmett places his hand on my back as I stand. "Thank you," I tell him, bending to kiss his cheek. I swear he glows.

"You're welcome," he says with a smile.

I follow the nurse out.

"Are you sure Edw… his son's okay with this? Only he was pretty mad at me earlier."

"He said he was."

They've clearly discussed this. A feeling of unease creeps through me, turning my stomach over and squeezing my heart until it thumps. I push back the urge to cry again. I refuse to be the melodramatic, weepy female in all of this. Even if I can't make Edward like me, I can at least try and win some respect. God knows, it might be all I'm walking away from here with tonight.

**~aCoH~**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The room is full of monitors and tubes. There isn't a moment's silence, no chance to listen to our thoughts or try to take stock. Every breath is aided by the machine, every heartbeat accompanied by a beep. Dad lays there on a trolley bed, his skin gray, criss crossed with angry red welts and mottled by bruises. His face is drawn with pain, and all I can think about is how old he looks.

A few moments ago a nurse came in to clean him up. As in _clean him up. _I watched as my dignified, middle-aged father let a nurse wipe his behind and I actually started to cry. He cried too, a plaintive, keening wail that revealed his fear and cut me to the bone. He's a man who's come face to face with death and it's frightened him out of his mind.

"Carlisle?" Bella's voice is soft, and she immediately walks in and takes his hand. There's no hesitation, no fear, and I'm jealous that she finds acceptance where I can't. "You scared us, sweetheart."

Dad rasps out a word I can't quite make out. Bella leans forward until her ear is lined up with his dry, cracked lips, her hand squeezing his tightly.

Then she moves until her own lips touch his thin, papery skin, and a tear escapes the corner of his eye.

He whispers again, and I watch her face collapse in pain. She bites her lips, as if trying not to cry, her chest hitching. "You're going to be okay."

But he's already asleep.

This is when it hits me. Theirs isn't a casual fling, or a dirty weekend between a boss and his secretary. There's something more, something deep, and it's killing me to watch it. I don't know what upsets me more; the fact he's hidden something so important from me, or the realization that I find my father's girlfriend attractive. It sickens me enough to make me snap.

When she brings her eyes to meet mine, I have to fight not to look away. "What did the doctor say?" she asks softly.

"They're monitoring him. It's too soon to operate until they know he can survive the procedure." My voice cracks as I say it. "The next twenty four hours will be key."

She nods, and her hair falls over her face. She sweeps it back in irritation, tucking it behind her ears.

"There's something else you need to know."

"What?"

"I spoke with my mom. She's on her way back, should be here by tomorrow evening." I glance at my watch. It's after midnight. Christmas. "Or this evening."

There's a silence punctuated only by ragged breaths and machines. She twists at her hands, and I notice her nails are bitten to the quick. They look strangely messy compared to the rest of her; an afterthought compared to her pretty dress and makeup.

"Okay," she says, finally.

I clear my throat. "They're still married, she's his next of kin. If there are any decisions to be made, she'll make them." I bite back a strangled sob. It sticks in my throat, scratching and clawing from the inside out. Mom had been strangely calm when I called her, asking me pertinent questions with a measured voice. It's more than a relief to know she's on her way.

Bella doesn't seem to share my relief. Instead she looks frightened, her eyes darting to my father's unconscious body. She pulls at the neckline of her dress as if she's trying to get some air.

"I should go before she gets here. For your father's sake, I mean. It's not going to help his recovery if he has women fighting over him."

"It hasn't worried him before."

Bella frowns. "What do you mean?" Her confusion is etched across her face, pulling at the edges of her mouth. I realise she doesn't know about the other women, the ones he slept with when he was still with mom. It's on the tip of my tongue to enlighten her, to tell her she isn't as goddamned special as she thinks she is, but then dad groans softly and we both turn to look at him.

"Nothing," I reply. "I meant nothing."

Though I step back from a confrontation, I can't shake off the feeling a storm is coming, and it's heading north, directly from Miami, Florida.

**~aCoH~**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

I glance at Edward whenever he's not looking at me, my eyes wandering over the furrowed brow and the watery green eyes, the slightly crooked nose and the full red lips that pull tight with worry every so often. There's a voice in my head nagging away at the fact the man I love is lying here, apparently on death's door, and yet I can't keep my eyes away from his son for reasons I can't fathom. I silence the voice with the insistence I'm gauging the situation, watching for him losing his cool with me again. Then my eyes are drawn to his face, beautiful even in grief, and the process starts over.

My heart bangs against my chest wall, and I have no idea which of them is affecting it this way. It seems to beat for them both. Carlisle. Edward. Father. Son.

The moment Edward mentions his mother, I know I've lost the discrete battle we're waging against one another. I don't need him to remind me she's still married to Carlisle, and yet he does. I wonder if he intentionally twists the knife with that comment, or if maybe he thinks I don't know?

I refuse to be anything other than gracious for Carlisle's sake. Even in defeat. While I can't control the time I have here with Carlisle being cut short, I can make the most of it.

Over the course of the next few hours, Carlisle slips in and out of consciousness. When he's awake, Edward and I work together to let him know he's not alone. We hold his hand, we speak to him; reassure him. Then, as he drifts away again, it's like someone flicks a switch in Edward. He sits across from me, his father's body an expanse that separates us from one another. He glares and hostility radiates from him in waves that wash over me, making it difficult to breathe as I come close to drowning more than once.

I'm sneaking one of my surreptitious glances, when I see the fight leave him. Carlisle woke briefly, before unconsciousness tugged on him and dragged him back under. Edward was about to speak, I'd heard the intake of breath and watched his mouth poise, but then in the next second it was pointless.

He slumps, like a marionette with its strings cut. His head falls onto the bed, over his hands which are clasping one of his father's still.

"Are you okay?" I ask softly, almost afraid to speak in case it reignites the fire within him. He doesn't reply, and I don't move for a long moment, watching his shoulders shake with silent tears. The sun breaks over the horizon outside, and streaks of vivid orange light up against the deep purple-blue expanse. It bleeds into the hospital, not offering any kind of brightness inside the starkly-lit building, but staining everything it touches with its hues.

Edward's hair glows, its auburn tones complemented by the golden light, as his head remains bowed at his father's side.

I don't consider what I'm doing as I rise from the hard, plastic chair I've been sitting on for far too long. I only realize how cramped my muscles have become when the feelings of relief ripple through me as I stretch them out. Edward doesn't sense my approach - or maybe he does given that my touch doesn't startle him as I lay my hand on his shoulder. His head remains down, but the shaking subsides and long fingers snake up, coming to rest on top of my hand. A fleeting thought that maybe he doesn't realize it's me, shoots through my mind, followed by a flash of panic as he begins to sit up.

If my heart was already cracked, then it splits completely apart as he looks up into my face. His eyes are red and tear-filled, as raw-looking as the pain that leaves his face open and little-boy vulnerable. It crumples, despair taking over and distorting his perfect features as he falls apart again. He turns and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing his face against my chest as he squeezes me tightly. The urge to comfort him takes over. One arm encompasses what it can as I stand above him, while the other wraps around his head, holding it against me as I rest my cheek against his hair as he rides his pain out.

It strikes me that my own pain throbs a little less acutely as I offer him comfort, and my unwillingness to move; to be the first to break the contact, is caused as much by this as it is a reluctance to face the awkwardness that will almost certainly follow.

**~aCoH~**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Carlisle?" The word wakes me from slumber, and I sit upright, my head swimming from the sudden movement. The bright overhead lights make me blink momentarily, and it takes some moments for me to work out where I am. Then I see _her_, Mom, and it's like I can breathe again, the muscles in my chest loosening enough for the pain to subside.

She drops her bag on the floor and rushes over to the bed, her tanned hand covering Dad's pale, tube-covered one. "Oh my God, what happened to you?"

She glances at me and I see the overhead light reflected in her watery eyes. Her face is pale despite her sun-kissed skin, worry lines etched into her forehead. Dad lies on the bed, staring up at her, and I swear I see a flash of relief crossing his face.

"Esme, you came." His voice is little more than a whisper in the wind. She leans closer to him, pressing her lips against his cheek.

"Of course I came. Where else would I be?"

Their embrace holds years of emotion inside it. Pain, need and love all mixed up together. They way they murmur to each other-the first words they've exchanged in months-makes me feel like an interloper within my own family.

A crash comes from my left and I whip my head around. Bella is standing in the doorway, still as a statue, and two styrofoam cups of coffee lay at her feet, their contents spilling out in a muddy brown lake around her feet. She stares at my parents, her wide brown eyes taking in the way my mom is holding him, the way he's clinging to her in desperation.

Now there are two interlopers.

"Lauren?" Mum says, looking at Bella. "I didn't realize you'd come with Edward."

Immediately, my heart starts banging against my chest. Though Mom's never met Lauren, a glance at her Facebook page should be enough to let her know my girlfriend isn't a petite brunette. But the separation has changed her, made her more introspective, and I suspect she takes little interest in what my girlfriend looks like.

"I'm Bella." Though she hasn't moved, she's at least gotten control of her breathing. "I'm a friend of..."

I walk over to her and grab her hand. For some reason I feel protective. It could be the way she took care of me last night, or the fact I know for sure my mom's about to make mincemeat of her, but either way I position myself between Bella and Mom.

"She's an old school friend," I say, still holding her small, surprisingly warm hand. "And as clumsy as ever." I pick up the cups that lie empty at her feet, then call for an orderly to clean up the coffee spill. All the time Bella stands there, staring at my parents, her expression unreadable. Mom and Dad continue to talk in low voices, and she strokes his face softly, his eyes closing in contentment, and the whole thing makes me feel nauseous.

"I should go." Bella's eyes dart from my parents to me. Her voice lowers. "Tell Carlisle... tell your dad..."

"Let's go get another coffee," I suggest, reaching out to stop her from leaving. "I'll carry them this time."

"No, it's fine, I can get one at home." She seems flustered. Nervy.

"I need a break anyway. And I could do with the company. Join me?" I still haven't let her go. My fingers curl around her slim arm, tips pressing into her skin. Her colour bleaches under the pressure.

"Okay, if you're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Mom and Dad barely react when I tell them we're going to get a coffee, though Mom does manage to get her order in for a skinny latte. Then Bella and I are in the corridor, our shoes tapping loudly on the tiled floor, and she walks as far as the elevators before slumping against the wall.

"Thank you," she says, looking down at her feet.

"For what?"

"For not making a scene in there. For making a potentially embarrassing situation less awkward. For not telling your mom who I am."

"I don't know who you are," I tell her, understanding the truth in my words. Of course I know her name, I know her education, but I haven't got the slightest clue who the real Bella Swan is.

I think I'd like her, though.

Her face falls at my words and I immediately want to take them back. I reach up to cup her face, and she's so, so soft. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Like what?" Hurt is laced through her voice.

"I meant I haven't had a chance to know you. I only discovered your existence a day ago, and I still don't know what's going on between you and my dad."

She pulls away from me, and my hand falls back to my side. "You want to know about me and Carlisle? Ask away. I'm not hiding anything, just trying to protect him."

I consider her offer, wondering if I want to know. But curiosity wins out, and the next minute I'm shooting out questions.

"How did you meet?"

"At work." She looks down and a smile curves the edge of her lips. "I'm a PA for one of the partners there. Marcus."

I nod, I know Marcus. He's been a partner at the law firm for years. I've been to his house, danced with his wife, tried to avoid being matched with his daughters. He's your typical, sixty year old letch. No wonder he employed Bella.

"How long have you been seeing him?"

"Since last January. His secretary left and he had a lot of problems with his filing system. I stayed late one night to help him and..." she shrugs.

"Do they know about you at work?" I look at her and her face pales.

"No, and I don't want them to. It's none of their business."

The elevator arrives and we step in, turning to stand in front of an old couple wearing matching wool jackets. I lean across and press the button for the atrium before continuing our conversation. "Of course it's their business. Companies have rules about that sort of thing."

"Carlisle's a partner, they wouldn't get rid of him."

"But you're not," I point out. "You have a hell of a lot more to lose than he does. Your job, your money, that's a lot to risk. Unless you love him."

This time she winces. Her eyes close momentarily and I'm struck by how perfect her skin is. Unblemished, porcelain, it's like a work of art.

"You love him?" I repeat.

She says nothing, refusing to catch my gaze and her silence rings loudly in my ears. It winds me, chasing the breath out of my throat, and my hands pulse with the need to lash out.

"Do. You. Love. Him?" I ask, my teeth gritted.

"Yes!" She shouts, throwing her hands in the air. "Yes I fucking love him."

We join the line for the coffee shop, and I can feel her shaking next to me, her body as tense as a tightly sprung coil. My hands fist next to my hips, and not for the first time I wonder why the hell I didn't spend Christmas at Lauren's house like she wanted me to.

Maybe if I had, none of this would have happened. Dad wouldn't have ended up in hospital, my mom wouldn't have had to cut her vacation short, and I wouldn't be staring at this brown-haired, beautiful girl, feeling bitterly jealous of my own father.

**~aCoH~**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

I glance up at Edward a couple of times as we wait in line, but he's looking resolutely away from me, chin up and jaw tensed. My own body is no stranger to tension either right now. It feels like a tornado is whirling inside me, the energy trying desperately to force its way out. For a moment I consider running. Not away, just around the room and maybe along the corridor outside; anything to relieve the discomfort of my tightly bunched muscles. I'm briefly amused by the thought of darting between the tables like a child, and a laugh catches me by surprise, beginning to escape before I quickly rein it in. It didn't have chance to sound like laughter before I caught it, at least.

I glance guiltily up at Edward as he stares down at me, frowning.

"Are you okay?" he asks. And then, before I have a chance to reply, he's pushing his hand roughly through his hair as he turns his head again, diverting his eyes. "Sorry. Stupid fucking question."

We stand silently again for another minute or two as we wait. I watch the people for whom standing in line at a hospital coffee shop is the norm; doctors, nurses, orderlies. The people encountering illness and death, dain, day out.

As my mind floats somewhere between reality and surrealism, the memory of Edward's mom leaning over Carlisle sweeps in from nowhere and punches me in the gut. I wrap my arms around my middle, fighting back the choking feeling in my throat that threatens to become vocal. Edward is oblivious, giving our order to the guy behind the counter. I slip from his side and sit at a nearby table before my legs give way, resting my elbows on the hard surface and framing my face with my hands. The tornado that resided inside me finally stops swirling, but there's a huge, tight knot in it's place.

"Are you ready?" Edward asks, appearing beside me and setting three steaming paper cups down on the table.

"I think I'll stay here a little longer," I tell him. He pulls out the chair opposite and sits down. "You don't have to stay too, I'll be fine," I say hurriedly. He shrugs as though he doesn't care, but his eyes are shrewd and I know there's more going on in his head than he's letting on. His decision to stay is far from unconsidered.

I sigh.

"What?" I ask.

"I just don't get it. You're young and beautiful and he's… my dad."

"You don't have to _get it," _I snark. "Nobody has to, it's nobody else's business. And besides, you really think this is the most tactful time to be questioning it?" I look away, shaking my head as I test how long I can keep my hands on my coffee cup before the burning becomes too much.

"I'm sorry about my mom," he says. His voice is quiet and when I turn to look at his face, he seems genuinely uncomfortable.

"Why?" I ask sharply. I know my tone is mean and I regret it the moment the words leave my lips, but I don't backtrack.

"Why?" He looks at me from beneath brows that crumple in confusion.

"Why are you sorry?" I clarify. "It's a shitty situation and she knows nothing about me. What is there to apologize for?"

He stares at me for a while, until a small smirk works its way onto his lips and he looks down at the table instead.

"I have absolutely no fucking idea what to make of you," he confesses.

"And you shouldn't apologize for other people anyway," I tell him, ignoring his last comment. I briefly wish I could get my head around his preoccupation with understanding me and my relationship with his father. "Take responsibility for your own actions, but don't let yourself get dragged down by other people's. It's not healthy."

He's watching me closely again. I try to meet his eyes, but I can't do it for long. There's something about the way he regards me that puts me on edge, or closer to it at least. I'm pretty much teetering there right now as it is. I feel the energy beginning to bunch up in my muscles again, and I stand, pushing the chair back without any real thought about where I'm going to go. I'm not sure I can face going back to Carlisle's bedside right now; not while Esme fawns all over him.

"I need a smoke. Do you have any?" I ask Edward. He leans back in his chair and shakes his head.

"I don't smoke," he says. I smile wistfully.

"Me neither. Not for three years at least. I'd kill for one now though."

He leans on the tabletop and levers himself up, out of his seat. Walking around the table, he takes my hand. It's the second time he's done it now and it already feels familiar.

"Let's just walk," he says determinedly, moving off and taking me with him as I fight to quash the disgust in myself that blooms in my chest as I briefly savour the tingle in my hand where it joins his.

"Wait! The coffee…" I turn and wave my hand in the direction of our table where two half-empty cups sit along with one still-steaming full one.

"Fuck the coffee."

We do as he suggested; just walk. We walk through busy corridors and quiet ones, ones where I flinch against the babble and noise, and those where the click of my heels echoes off the walls and through the empty space. We're moving along the latter when a door to the left opens ahead of us and a person on a gurney is wheeled out. It's only when the gurney is completely through the door that I see the sheet that covers them extends all the way up and over their head, the vague outline of their face visible beneath the white cotton.

Edward stops in his tracks. I worry for a moment he's about to pass out, until he looks down at me, his eyes wide and watery.

"Are you okay?" I ask. He doesn't answer the question.

"I want to see my dad."

**~aCoH~**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N - Chocaholic123 and I would like to thank everyone for their continued support of and kind words for this little story we began on a whim for the lovely SparrowNotes24 :). I can only apologise for the lack of review replies, which is obviously down to me as it's posting on this account. If there were a few more hours in the day I'd send each of you all the love you deserve! Please know we appreciate it every time you share your thoughts with us xx**

**Chapter 12**

The next two weeks are a blur of white-washed hospital walls and starched sheets, the aroma of Lysol a constant companion. I spend my days in the hospital and my evenings frantically trying to finish my assignments that are due the following week, tugging at my hair as the typewritten words swim before my eyes. Dad's recovery from surgery is slow but steady, and each day we visit seems more positive than the last. The doctors begin to talk about discharge and aftercare, rather than stabilizing his condition.

Mom flies back to Florida, promising to pack everything up and get back as soon as she can. There seems to be some unspoken agreement between her and Dad that she will move into his apartment while he recovers, taking over any nursing duties he needs.

"You'll want to get back to Boston," Mom says, pressing her lip-glossed mouth to my cheek while tying the belt on her coat. "He needs somebody to stay with him."

She rubs the lipstick stain from my cheek with her thumb, and I twist away from her the way I used to when I was a kid. "But why you?" I ask. "After everything that's happened?"

"Because he's my husband," she says simply. "This accident changes everything."

There's this nagging feeling in my gut, and I can't quite place the emotion. Shouldn't I feel happy that the two of them are talking at least? But there's no delight in the knowledge that there's somebody else involved here. Somebody who has already admitted she's in love with my dad. Somebody who's going to be crushed as soon as she finds out that Mom's moving back in with him as soon as he gets out of here.

I haven't seen Bella since the day Mom arrived. After our walk I went back up to my dad's room and she left, mumbling something about work. Unless she's coming to see him in the times when Mom and I are getting something to eat-or sneaking in after visiting hours are over-then Dad hasn't seen her either.

I don't know why that thought enrages me so much. Every time I think of her, all I can remember is the expression on her face when she dropped her coffee cup. Her brows pulled together, her eyes glassy, her lips open as a gasp escapes her mouth. I think of the way he treated mom last year, almost flaunting his infidelities in front of her, and a familiar rage pushes at my chest.

For some reason I feel protective of her. What I don't understand is why. So she's an old school acquaintance-big deal. I've never felt the need to stand up for anybody like this before.

As I open the door to my father's room, I'm still ruminating on it all, my thoughts racing as I take it all in. He's sitting up in bed, wearing a fresh pair of plaid pajamas Mom bought him yesterday, his hair brushed back, his reading glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose. He looks over them at me, a smile spreading across his face, and I hate the way I feel as if I'm caught in the middle all over again.

Except this time it isn't my Mom I want to defend.

"Did Esme get away on time?" he asks. Though the lacerations on his face are slowly starting to heal, they still stand out, livid against his pale skin.

"I put her in a cab," I tell him. "There's plenty of time until her flight."

A nurse bustles in, glancing at the monitor and checking his stats. Wordlessly she scribbles something on his chart before leaving again. When the door swings closed I'm aware of the awkward atmosphere she's left behind, one that's filled with unspoken questions. I try to figure out how to ask him what the hell he's doing, but he beats me to the punch.

"I'd rather you didn't tell your mom about Bella," he says. His tone is conversational, as if he's asking me to put out the trash.

My brows knit together. "You want me to lie?"

He folds his paper away, laying it on the night stand. "Not at all, I just don't think she needs to know. I don't want her to be hurt."

"Don't want _who_to be hurt?" I spit out. "Mom or Bella?"

He raises his eyebrows in surprise and I swallow hard, trying to calm myself down. He isn't out of the woods yet, the last thing he needs is an argument. Breathing deeply, I sit down in the hard plastic chair next to his bed, running a hand through my hair. Dad takes off his glasses, leaving a red spot on his nose where they've been resting, and I can't help but notice how old he looks..

"I don't want anybody to get hurt," he says.

"It's a bit late for that isn't it? You can't string them both along, it's not fair on anybody." Least of all me.

"I'm not stringing anybody along. I've called Bella and asked her to come see me this evening. I'm going to break things off with her."

I lean back in my chair, shaking my head. A weird tingle snakes its way up my spine. "Seriously?" An almost-laugh sends paroxysms through my chest. "You know she's in love with you, right?"

"It's not like that. Bella and I, we..." He trails off, leaning his head against the metal rail of his bed. "It was a bit of fun... Nothing serious."

"You're lying."

"Son," he says, his voice low. "Bella's a beautiful girl, but she's a kid. I almost died here, and it made me think about everything that I've done in my life. And out of all that-all the shit I've created-the one good thing was your mother. Seeing her here, the way she's taken care of me, it's made me realise just how much I still love her."

I stare at him, open mouthed. For once I'm genuinely dumbfounded. There's an edge to his words that speaks of truth, and I realise that his mind's made up. Again, I tell myself I should be happy. That my parents are back together, and this time hopefully it will work. They'll have each other, and I won't be torn between them, and everybody's lives will be easier.

Everybody's but Bella's.

Just before five, I head out, leaving my dad alone in his room. Grabbing my phone, I send a quick text to Emmett, arranging to meet him for a beer after work. In the week that's passed the snow has morphed into near-constant rain, the kind that soaks your hair almost as soon as you step outside. So I zip up my jacket and wrap my scarf around my neck, bracing myself for the onslaught. Lowering my head to protect my face, I walk through the sliding doors, and practically barrell into the pretty brunette climbing out of a cab.

"Edward, hi." She gives me a shy smile. "How's your dad?"

Rain drips from her hair but she doesn't seem to notice. Instead she's staring up at me, and it's making my heart race.

"Yeah, he's good, I guess."

"He called me this morning, asked me to come and see him. I wasn't sure he was going to." She's bubbly, almost radiant, and the protective side of me kicks in. I want to tell her not to go up there, to shield her from the pain that's clearly inevitable. I want to stop him from breaking her fucking heart.

"I'd better go," I say, glancing at my watch. "I'm meeting Emmett."

She looks surprised at my terseness, her face falling the smallest bit. "Oh, okay, sure. I'll catch you later." Stepping forward, she puts her arms around my waist, squeezing me tightly, pressing her face into my chest. And though I'm shocked, for a moment I allow my hands to rest gently on her hips and my face to press into her hair, the wetness covering my skin.

"Take care of yourself," I say, dropping my hands and stepping away. Without looking back, I climb into the cab she vacated, directing the driver downtown. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull out to read the message, but this one isn't from Emmett.

It's from Lauren.

**When are you coming home? I miss you.**

No asking after my dad. No asking me how I'm doing. Just a simple, selfish request.

Pulling up the keyboard, I tap out a one-word reply.

**Tomorrow.**

**~aCoH~**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

I peer cautiously around the door of Carlisle's room. My excitement at finally seeing him again was doused by Edward's coldness toward me outside just now, and despite the excessive heat within the hospital, I shiver slightly as I lay eyes on my man for the first time in two weeks.

"Hey, how are you?" I ask carefully. He's just settling himself back onto his bed and I can't help the relief that floods me when I see how well he looks, sending my mood soaring again.

"Come on in." He gestures for me to move forward, but I notice my own smile isn't reflected on his face. He appears nervous, and it's a look I've rarely seen on him before. Carlisle Cullen, pre-accident, was confident and self-assured in every way. I briefly wonder if the crash has had an impact that goes deeper than skin, tissue and bone.

As I step over the threshold into the room, I notice a small bag sitting on top of the locker beside the bed, the familiar name of a jewelry store spelled out in looping silver letters against the black of the bag.

The reason behind his out of character nervousness and Edward's brush-off outside just now, become clear in my mind. I vow to myself that after all of this, everything we've been through since the accident, nothing and nobody else really matter. This time when he asks, I'm going to say yes.

Pushing my own nerves to one side, I walk over to the bed. I lean in to kiss him, aiming for his mouth, but as I grow closer he seems to turn his head away. At the very last moment he turns it back and his lips meet mine. I do my best to quash the prickling unease that lies hidden somewhere deep within me.

He's as soft and warm as ever as we linger, and when his hand comes up, pushing through my hair to cup the back of my head, I tell myself I imagined the whole thing as I sigh in blissful satisfaction. I pull away a little, just enough to move my lips in a whisper. "I've missed you. So much."

Carlisle moves back, his eyes searching mine. I figure he hasn't found whatever it was he was looking for when he closes them, leans his head back and lets his hand drop.

"I'm so sorry," he says, his voice quiet and devoid of everything it ever was.

"For what?" I straighten up; sit down on the bed, my body twisted to face him. My fingers reach for his hand, but when I pick it up, he takes it back, so painfully slowly. "Carlisle?"

Steel-blue eyes open and look at me.

"You were right to be guarded. This…" He gestures between himself and me. "It would never have worked. I think it's better we call an end to it now."

I don't comment, because I can't. My brain came screeching to a halt as he spoke, and my throat is too constricted to let me form words, even if I could. He looks closely at me. "Are you okay?" he asks. I blink, shake my head and look away.

"I...I…" It's the best I can do, so I stand and walk to the window, needing to put some space between us. When I get there I turn back to face him. "Are you serious?" I demand, angry either way.

"You're the same age as my son, Bella-"

"And you only just worked that out?" I cut in. "That's not news to either of us, Carlisle. At least have the decency to save me the bullshit." Turning back to the window I stare out past our reflections, at the windows and rooftops of the city, lit up against the dark and the oppressive rain. "You didn't even ask me here to discuss it. You'd already decided."

He moves as though he's going to get up from the bed, but as he pushes away, he winces. It's a sharp reminder that I probably shouldn't be fighting him on this right now.

"Bella, I've had a lot of time to think since the accident."

"Save it," I tell him, my voice softening as my heart cracks and surrenders. "I get it. I know Esme's been here, otherwise you'd have called me sooner. We both know you can't stand to be alone. So, what? You've decided to give things another go? You're going to forgive her for screwing around behind your back? Exactly how many times did she have to say sorry before you rolled over for her this time?" He doesn't deny it. "I can't believe you think you can just go back to playing happy families like that."

"I don't think that," he argues, his brow drawn tightly over his eyes. "I don't want to go back, this is a new start. Esme and I...we got so lost we forgot the basis of how we ever felt for each other. We were eighteen when we had Edward, barely out of high school. We struggled and worked so hard to make a family for him and careers that meant we could give him the best. Christ, I didn't even know who _I _was for years, it's no surprise I lost of sight of who Esme was. I think we just needed some time apart to remind ourselves."

I stare at him, my mouth open as I struggle to believe the things coming from his mouth.

"You said you loved me," I tell him, already losing the battle to remain calm and collected. "You were thinking of marriage, I know you were! What happened to that?"

He ignores the question.

"Bella, you're young. Go out there and find somebody your own age. Embrace life. You never know when it might be snatched away from you."

He pulls himself up the bed and leans back with a sigh. As well as he looks, he's clearly exhausted by my visit.

"I hate you for this," I tell him as I reach down and grab my purse from where I left it on his bed. He opens his eyes slowly and looks at me. "You only had the accident because you'd been with me. You know what that means? It was all for nothing. Our whole relationship achieved nothing but broken hearts: physical and metaphorical. Well thanks for nothing."

I have nothing more to say to him, so I turn and leave, and he doesn't try to stop me.

**~aCoH~**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The road to the airport is quiet, a combination of the weekend lull and the fact there's a big parade going on downtown, luring the would-be-shoppers to its gaudy, balloon-filled festival. Emmett drives the Suburban with a casual ease, his winter-tanned arm resting on the door, fingers tapping along to the Christmas tunes he's lined up on his playlist.

"I appreciate you driving me, man," I tell him. Though my voice is steady, there's still emotion there. Through this whole abortive visit, Emmett's been the only one who's remained strong and steady. The further we drive away from my dad's apartment, the more I realise just how fucked up everything is. My father's heart problems, his girlfriend, his reconciliation with my mom...

I sigh and rub my face with the heels of my hands. "So, you should definitely come out and visit me soon. I'll introduce you to some of the girls on my course." I'm all too aware that Emmett is still missing Rose. "Or one of Lauren's sisters," I add.

"Lawyer Barbie has sisters?" He raises his eyebrows, looking at me with a grin on his face. "I always had a thing for Skipper."

"Who the fuck's Skipper?"

"Barbie's sister," he says, as if I should know that kind of shit. "She's fucking hot."

He swings onto the interstate, sliding into a non-existent space between a truck and a station wagon. The truck driver presses his horn and Emmett slowly winds down his window, flipping the bird to the moustached guy behind us.

"How the hell do you know the name of Barbie's sister?" I ask, ignoring the fact we're a moment away from being flattened by the truck. "No scratch that, I don't even wanna know."

"I have sisters, too, dude, they used to make me play with them and shit. Anyway, Barbie has good tits, ya know?"

I don't know, and I don't ever want to. I stifle a smirk, and check my phone, noting that Lauren has left three texts for me asking exactly when I'm landing. I'm not sure if that means I'm going to have a welcoming committee, or if I'm just going to be berated as soon as I step onto Boston soil.

By the time we arrive at O'Hare, we've arranged for Emmett to visit in the Spring, and he's extracted a promise that I'll introduce him to all four of the Mallory sisters. There's a smile on his face as wide as the sky, and I have to admit it warms me inside.

Coming to a stop next to the arrivals entrance, Emmett climbs out of the driver's side while I pull out my case and drop it onto the sidewalk. We hug for a moment, his thick, heavy arms squeezing me a little too tight, then tap each other's backs before we step away.

"Thanks for being here," I say, my throat tightening. "It meant everything, you know?"

For the first time he looks a little embarrassed. "Any time, I know you'd do the same for me. And hell, if I get to lay Skipper, the debt will be settled."

Any feelings of emotion disappear.

"Yeah, well just remember Barbie has a long fucking memory. If you mess with her sister, I'll be the one who pays."

"I'm banking on it."

A little over four hours later I'm walking through Logan airport, heading for the exit when I hear a squeal. The next minute Lauren throws herself at me, causing me to drop my bag, and she's clinging onto me like a goddamn monkey on heat.

"You were supposed to be here half an hour ago," she chides, still holding me. "I've been sitting and waiting."

I lean down and press my lips to hers. Though they're closed, I feel them soften as soon as I start to kiss her, and within a minute we're hot and heavy, my hands tangled in her hair, hers digging into my ass. I carry on, wondering if I'm kissing her because I want to, or if I'm doing it to put off the inevitable. Because while her mouth is busy doing this, she can't launch into me for arriving home so late.

Eventually we part, and I swing my case back up, still holding on to her with my other hand. We head for the exit and the parking lot, where her brand new Mustang is parked neatly at the far end, the red metallic paint reflecting the rays of the winter sun.

"Nice," I remark, casting an eye over her new car. Her parents gave it to her last week-a combined Christmas and early graduation present-and even I'm impressed by just how shiny and new it looks.

"Do you like it?" she asks, a broad smile splitting her face. "You can drive it if you want?"

She doesn't need to ask twice. I grab the keys and slide into the driver's seat, pushing it back to accommodate my long legs. Lauren climbs in next to me, talking ten-to-the-dozen about the controls I need to know, reminding me to drive at the speed limit, and that I shouldn't corner so fast. By the time we reach my apartment all the lustre has gone from the drive, and I realize that nothing has really changed. I mean, I like Lauren, I really do, especially when I find other things to do with that pretty mouth of hers. But she nags me as if she's my mom, and it gets on my last goddamn nerve.

"You wanna come up?" I ask, silently praying that she doesn't. "I'm just gonna grab a shower and head for the sack, but you're free to join me."

Lauren wrinkles her nose. "Are you just asking me up for sex?"

If I'm honest, the thought hadn't occurred to me. But now it has, it seems like a pretty good suggestion. "Sex is definitely on the cards," I say, flashing her a smile.

"Then I'll pass. I've got a midterm tomorrow and I need to get some sleep. Call me first thing and we can arrange a date tomorrow night." She stops talking for long enough to take a breath. "Somewhere nice, and maybe then we can talk sex." Then she taps my thigh lightly with her palm, as if she's placating me, and I raise my eyebrows, wondering if she think's I'm going to be disappointed.

Because yeah, I wouldn't say no to sex. But I'm more than happy to sort myself out in that department, and my palm is a damn sight less high maintenance than Lauren Mallory.

"Sure, I'll call you," I promise, though I know she'll be the one calling me first thing in the morning. "Thanks for picking me up." I reach for the door handle, leaving the key in the ignition so she can slide across and drive herself home. But rather than close the door behind me, she just looks at me expectantly.

"Um, haven't you forgotten something?"

I scratch my head. "I don't think so."

"A kiss goodbye?"

"Oh yeah, sure." Feeling like a pussy, I lean down and press my lips to hers. She doesn't open them and I don't try to make her. Instead I give her a peck and stand back up, slamming the door shut.

When I unlock the door to my apartment and step inside, I'm hit by the stale air within. It smells neglected and empty, and I walk around opening curtains and turning on fans to try and get rid of the acrid smell. Then I take a long, hot shower, letting the spray pour down long after I've cleaned my body and washed my hair, enjoying the sensation of warm water on my cold, tired skin. By the time I climb into bed I'm about done in, but I take a minute to text my folks, letting them know I've arrived safely. Dad replies that everything's fine and Mom's due to arrive back in Chicago on Monday, while Mom's reply is a litany of all the things she has to do before she catches the flight.

Before I go to sleep, I check my emails and Facebook, noticing a few friend requests-the result of my catching up with some old friends on Christmas Eve. Just as I'm about to close up the app a new request appears, and the avatar accompanying it makes my eyebrows rise up.

My finger hovers over the 'confirm' button as I study Bella Swan's photograph. She's standing on a beach wearing a huge, floppy sunhat, a beatific smile splitting her face. My stomach tightens as I study her, wondering what she's doing now, and why the hell she's sent me a request. I want to accept, to study her profile, to find out exactly how she's feeling now that my dad has told her everything.

But then I remember the emotions of the past few weeks. The messed-up scenes between her and my dad. And I try to forget the way I feel attracted to her, wondering how it would feel to kiss her the way I kiss Lauren.

Confirm or ignore? I laugh; as if it was possible to ignore somebody like Bella Swan. I look at her again, at the beauty of her face, and wonder what would have happened if we'd met at the bar, instead of my dad's bedside.

What if she'd never met my dad?

What if we were just old school friends reconnecting?

What if I could turn back time?

Sighing, I reach for my lamp and switch it off, so the only source of illumination is the iPhone nestled in my palm. Then I reach out and press the button, aware that I may be making the biggest fucking mistake in my life.

And I ignore Bella Swan.

**~aCoH~**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Work is a cold and lonely place to be. The previously good memories around every corner have become the thorns that reach out and prick sharply at me each time I pass. The place in the corridor we first spoke, the storeroom where we met to get our fix of one another, the door to his office with his name set evenly on a plaque; all of them ugly reminders of how easily he'd cast me aside.

My only source of information on Carlisle's recovery now is the office grapevine. I'd thrown my donation into the collection envelope for him that came my way in the office, and conveniently forgot to write in the card that accompanied it. I heard that Esme was back to take care of him, and I couldn't be sure I wouldn't vomit the next time I heard somebody comment how it sometimes takes something like this to bring people back together.

The only thing I'm truly thankful for is that I'd resisted his attempts to go public, because I can't imagine how much worse I'd feel if everyone around me knew the whole sordid truth.

A new email arrives in my inbox, and my heart thumps loudly when I see his name. My thoughts center around Carlisle so often, that it's more an inevitability than a coincidence that it should crop up when I'm thinking about him.

_**To: all staff**_

_**From: Heidi Fisher**_

_**Subject: Carlisle Cullen**_

_**Mr. Cullen wishes to pass on his sincerest thanks to all staff for their kind thoughts and gift, sent during his period of convalescence. He will be back at the office as soon as he is passed as fit to do so by his doctor, and looks forward to seeing everybody again at that time.**_

_**Regards**_

_**Heidi **_

I'm betting he doesn't mean quite _everybody. _He must have thought of me, mustn't he, when he expressed that particular sentiment? It's the first thing I thought when I read it, so I can't think it could have escaped him. I let my mind wander, masochistically forming the scene in my head. Was he sitting in his apartment, Esme beside him, on the huge grey sofa that he liked to fuck me on? I wonder if she knows about us? I doubt it. The way he called everything a day with me, I'm now pretty sure he's a coward at heart. The cowardly lion with the fierce appearance, hypocritical to the end after everything he said to me about Esme; how he felt about her after everything she put him through in their marriage with her philandering. She was the one that broke him, and forced him to try and scrape back some sense of self in the arms of other women, and it was her that then placed the responsibility for everything at his door. He wept when he told me the contempt Edward held him in over it all. He wouldn't speak to him for months, and Carlisle accepted all the blame; shouldered it like a martyr to protect the relationship between mother and son.

And now he'd taken her back.

The email, and the emotions it ripped the scab from, unsettle me for the rest of the afternoon. My mind wanders frequently from the work I should be doing, and I'm grateful Marcus is working from home today as I hit rock bottom and pull up a page on my phone with a list of city job vacancies. I skip to the relevant section and begin to look down the list of possible vacancies, wondering just how desperate I am not to see Carlisle again as I look at the salaries, every one of them depressingly lower than mine.

I pause, my cursor hovering for a frankly ridiculous amount of time over the 'request application pack' option on the only financially viable position in the whole section. The position is a small step up the ladder from my current role but the money matches what I earn right now. The biggest factor that causes me some discomfort is that it's for our main rival in the city. If there's one quality that's demanded in this place, it's loyalty.

"Come on, Bella. It's no big deal; you don't even have to send it in," I mutter under my breath, forcing myself to click on it and enter my details. Emboldened by the action of submitting it, I pick up my phone and fire off a quick text.

_**Glad to hear you're feeling better x**_

The minute I send it, I regret the action and hate myself for the moment of weakness. I lean forward, banging my head gently down on the desk in an act of pure frustration. If I thought I could get away with it unnoticed, I think I'd probably throw myself on the floor thrashing and screaming.

I feel foolish as I picture him furtively reading the message and deleting it before Esme can see. I wonder if he shakes his head in despair at my immaturity, or smiles self-indulgently at the fact I can't leave him alone.

I'm not sure what I'm expecting in return. A reply thanking me perhaps, or even one asking me to leave him alone. What I don't expect is the deafening stony silence I'm left with.

_Like father, like son, _I think to myself as I see I still have no response to the friend request I sent to Edward after Carlisle dumped me.

And there's another action I regret. I really am racking them up lately. I need to get a grip on my levels of self-control, I decide. I can't stand the squirming ribbons of embarrassment that twist and turn inside me, tying my stomach in knots each time I think of these moments of weakness.

Edward's profile was easy to find. Emmett had sent me a request that I'd accepted, and obviously Edward was on his friend list - his profile picture a close-up shot of him and a beautiful blonde girl who I assumed was the Lauren his mom had mistaken me for. I'd thought that friending him on Facebook would be a _fuck you_ to Carlisle, the fact that Edward might question the motivation behind the request only occurred to me when I awoke the next morning with the mother of all hangovers, and the request had already gone. The lack of response furthered my discomfort.

I'm grateful it's Friday, at least. What I really need, I decide, is a night in with an old movie, a glass of wine (but definitely no more than two after the last time), some junk food and ideally a girlfriend to share it all with. I rue the day I became the girl who neglected her friends in favor of her man. I guess that's karma for you.

**~aCoH~**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

I walk out of O'Hare and into the warm July afternoon, the low-lying sun momentarily blinding me into submission. I blink rapidly, letting my eyes get used to the brightness after hours of sitting on the airplane, and look around for my dad's car.

It doesn't take me long to spot him. His mid-life-crisis in metallic red is idling by the pick-up point with the top down, and he lifts his arm up from where it was resting on the door to take his aviator sunglasses off. His skin is tan, his hair fashionably cut, and he looks nothing like the half-dead man he was seven months ago.

"Edward, over here." He climbs out and onto the sidewalk approaching me with open arms. There's a grin on his face a mile wide, and for a moment it makes me forget just how angry I was with him when I left Chicago last December.

"Hey, Dad." I drop my suitcases onto the tarmac and hug him back. He's put on weight since Christmas, no doubt thanks to Mom's cooking among other things. He was always stocky, but now he's almost bulging over his jeans, and the American Apparel t-shirt he's wearing does nothing to disguise his gut.

"Is this everything?" He gestures at my two bags. "Is there more inside?"

I shrug. "Pretty much, I didn't need anything else." I guess it's a small amount of stuff for a guy who's just graduated from law school, but if I'm being really honest, I didn't want any of my old things. After four years in Boston I was ready to leave everything behind me. The battered leather sofa, the bed that creaked every time I rolled over on it.

The ex-girlfriend.

I somehow cram my cases into the small trunk at the back of his Sebring and then walk around to the passenger side. He starts up the car and slides his shades back on, and I notice a few women stare as he drives us away.

"Still got it," he murmurs. "Did you see that, son?"

I shake my head, unsurprised that he hasn't changed. "How's Mom?"

"She's good. Looking forward to having you back in Chicago, though she still can't understand why you don't want to move back in with us. It's not as if we're desperate for space."

I know from Mom's phone calls that they've moved back into their house just outside the city. Dad gave up his lease on his apartment.

"Emmett has a spare room, he needs the rent," I reply. "And it would be weird to move back home after all this time."

Not to mention the fact that I can't go through living with Mom and Dad again. I had my fair share of their arguments growing up, I certainly don't need to rehash them all now I'm in my twenties. Emmett's cramped apartment near Logan Square seems like the better option.

"Well, we'd like you to join us for lunch on Sunday if you're free."

"That should be fine." I start my internship on Monday, and I'll be taking the bar exam in February, but I figure a few hours out of my studying regime couldn't hurt. "I'll need to leave early though, I have to be at work by seven the next day."

"You're still planning to go over to the dark side?" Dad asks. "You know I could get you a job at our place easily, you just have to say the word."

Another source of contention; the fact I'll be working at Carter, Grift and Sloane while I'm studying for the Bar Exam. I applied for the position in the Spring, just after Emmett came to visit me in Boston. They're the biggest law firm in town, and the fact they're a rival of Dad's firm rankles him a bit. I have to admit the thought tickles me.

"Dad, they offer great training. I get some on the job experience and a mentor to help me pass the bar. I'd be crazy not to take it up."

"I suppose I should be glad you decided to take the bar here instead of Boston," he replies. "For a little while I thought you'd stay there for good."

Lauren's face flashes through my brain. "Yeah, so did I." It would have been so easy, to drift into something more serious with her. She wanted us to find an apartment together, to study for the Massachusetts Bar, but the thought of something serious sent shivers down my spine. I try not to think about the way she screamed when I tried to break it to her that things were over. I really don't want to have to live through that again.

"Well, I'm glad you changed your mind."

Staring out at the leafy trees that line the road ahead, I nod slowly, letting the breeze wash over my face and take away the bad memories.

"I am, too."

**~aCoH~**

"Beer?" Emmett flips up the lid of the cool box he's conveniently stashed next to his plastic chair. We've dragged them out to the tiny concrete yard, trying to soak up the last of the rays, letting the sun bake our skin as it slides down toward the horizon.

I take the bottle, letting the condensation cool my hand. Twisting off the cap, I throw it into the bucket at the far end of the yard, hearing it land with a satisfying clink.

"Four-one," I murmur, and get a dirty look in reply. Emmett's aim has never been that great, and beer doesn't seem to enhance it any. Considering he's had six beers to my four, I'm surprised he can even see the basket right now.

He tips his bottle and I touch the neck of mine against it. "Cheers."

"To new beginnings," he says, managing to sound deep. "And old friends."

I flash him a smile. It's been so easy, moving in with him. No nagging about drinking too much beer, no rolling of eyes when I leave the toilet seat up. If I want to throw my empty cans on the floor I can. "I really appreciate you taking me in, man," I say, feeling suddenly emotional. "You've always been there when I've needed you."

He raises his eyebrows at the sudden change in tone. "Anytime. Jeez, you were there after the whole Rose shitstorm." The way he says her name tells me everything I don't want to know. Her cheating hurt him bad, and it's clear to see he's still not over it. And though there's no way I'm going to go all girly and start asking him about his feelings, I decide to do the next best thing and take his mind off things.

"So, we never made it to that strip club at Christmas."

He laughs, though it doesn't quite catch his eyes. "You never set me up with Lauren's sisters either."

I hold my hands up. "I tried! But by that point Lauren had found out I'd applied for this internship, there was no way she was going to do me any favors."

"She's a bitch." The truth in beer. Emmett's always had that. "I'm glad you dumped her ass."

I frown, trying to work out who dumped who. I guess he's probably right; the fact I was moving west and didn't invite her probably constitutes dumping. For some reason I don't feel as bad as I should about that.

"Yep, she's definitely a bitch," I agree.

"Pretty though."

"Yep."

"And good in the sack?" he asks, a grin on his face.

This time I shrug. Not because I'm being gallant-although I don't particularly want to talk about sex-but because there's not really that much to tell him.

"Eh, we really need to get laid, bro." Emmett tosses his bottle at the bucket, missing spectacularly. Glass splinters across the concrete, catching the last of the early-evening rays. "This weekend, you and me, we're heading out on the town. And we're not coming home alone."

A smile tugs at my lips. I can't remember the last time we were both single; he and Rose were practically glued to each other's sides since high school, and I've had Lauren clinging to mine for years. The thought of hitting the town as grown men appeals more than it should, and I find myself looking forward to the next few months.

Everything's new, everything's fresh. It's like opening up a brand new notepad, knowing I can write whatever I want. Although working and studying isn't going to be easy, it will be a damn sight simpler than the past few years have been.

For the first time in forever, it feels as though I've come home.

**~aCoH~**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"I am so ready for this," Jess says as she clinks her glass against mine. I watch, eyebrows raised, as she lifts it to her lips, tilts back her head and drains it. The young, hot bartender has clearly anticipated this as he hasn't moved from the spot, instead leaning with both hands on the spotless white marble bar, watching her intently. "Same again," she barks at him, softening the order with a flirtatious smile. His mouth curves up into a smile too, and he leans forward.

"Didn't your mom ever teach you to say please when you want something?" he asks. I smirk as I note a definite twinkle in his eyes when Jess mirrors his position so their faces are only inches apart.

"Uh-huh," she replies, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on his. "But then I grew these." She throws her shoulders back and straightens, thrusting her enviable and perfect cleavage toward him. "And I discovered I didn't really need to anymore."

My mouth drops open, but he doesn't flinch, letting his eyes take a lingering, appreciative look and then nodding his head in agreement as he turns away to get her drink.

"You are shameless," I scold her.

"And you still have a full glass." She looks at me in mock disappointment as I take a long drink of the sickly sweet cocktail she ordered for me.

"Can I get you anything else?" the bartender asks, placing a mat down on the bar and her glass on it.

"Yes, another for my friend, here. Please." His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth curves into a sexy grin as she adds the unexpected courtesy.

"Same again?" he asks, turning his pretty blue eyes to me for the first time. Jess picks up the cocktail menu.

"No, this time she'll have-" I bring my hand down on the menu, pinning it to the bar and looking back to the bartender.

"Same again would be great, thanks." He grins and walks away and I turn to Jess. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" I demand.

"Maybe," she admits. "We've had a shit-tastic few days and the three new interns start on Monday, which mean next week's going to be even worse. I think we owe it to ourselves to blow off a little steam."

"Agreed, but I'm more than capable of getting myself drunk, I really don't need any help."

Jess giggles. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing." She tries to force a straight face, but another giggle slips through. I glare at her. "I was just remembering the last time you got yourself drunk."

"Don't go there…" I warn her, as her laughter continues to bubble away.

I'm thankful when my drink arrives and Jess is distracted again.

**~aCoH~**

We drink, we eat, we drink some more.

"I think we should leave after this one," I suggest in an attempt at avoiding making myself sick. I can feel myself creeping slowly toward the outer limits of the warm and fuzzy stage and heading somewhere far more sinister.

"You do know it's only nine forty-five?" Jess asks, waving to the nearest server through the now crowded space.

"You do know we started drinking at five thirty?" I ask in return, determined she won't derail my good intentions. She pulls her phone from her bag and squints, staring at the screen with an intense concentration that suggests she's also feeling the effects of all the alcohol she's consumed.

"Come on, we're leaving," she says without warning, stuffing her phone back in her bag and standing quickly.

"What? Right this second?" She's caught me off guard. I finish my drink quickly and stand too, smiling apologetically at the server who just arrived to take our order.

"Sorry, we just had a better offer," Jess tells the girl with a smile as she grabs my hand and sets off.

"Hey! Better offer? Where are we going?" I ask, struggling to keep up with her in my high heels.

A couple are climbing out of a taxi at the curb. Jess lets go of my hand and somehow - because her heels are even higher than mine - she runs over and claims it. When I catch her up she's giving the driver the name of a sports bar I've been to once or twice - but never this drunk and never dressed as I am tonight in the tight pencil skirt I wore to the office.

"Mike texted me," she says as I climb in beside her. I can see the unspoken apology on her face.

"Okay." I pass no further comment because she's fast become my best friend. She's been good to me since I started at C.G.S., and I appreciate the fact she took me under her wing and gave me enough of what I needed to piece myself back together when I was more than a little broken.

Jess and Mike are on-again, off-again. I'm not sure what their current status is, but I'm guessing by the end of the night it'll be on.

"Okay? No lecture?" I know she's thinking back two weeks, when she cried on my shoulder for almost an entire weekend.

"Would it change anything?" I ask.

"Probably not," she admits.

"Then what's the point?" I reach for her hand and squeeze it, wanting her to know there are no hard feelings. I wonder if there had been somebody to try and talk me out of things with Carlisle, if it would have worked. I guess in my heart I know it wouldn't have made an ounce of difference.

Jess strides into the bar ahead of me. It's busy and obnoxiously loud, a world away from the uptown cocktail bars we spent the first part of the evening in. If there was any doubt in my mind that we look out of place, the slew of eyes that watch us as we filter through the masses, send it flying out of the window.

A whistle and a wave send Jess dashing in Mike's direction. The greeting he gives her makes me blush and divert my eyes, as his friends cheer and catcall.

"What's a classy lady like you doing in a dive like this?" The voice is close and startles me. I spin around to see Emmett McCarty grinning down at me. Relief at the fact I'm not being hit on shoves my surprise aside. It's probably the alcohol coursing through my veins, but I feel genuinely pleased to see him, and I can't help but grin back. "You slumming it?" he asks. "I had you down as more of a cocktails and grand piano kind of girl."

"Been there, done that. We're finishing the evening on a low note," I explain nodding to where Jess is now sitting on Mike's lap.

"Ah." He nods in understanding and shoots me a sympathetic look. "You wanna join me? My wing man bailed."

I glance back at Jess.

"I guess mine did too," I lament. "Sure, why not?"

"Wanna do some shots?"

I look up at him and I'm sure the fear must be clear to see in my wide eyes. I don't answer straight away and he doesn't push, just waits with a smile, all dimples and expectations.

"Ok," I say at last, unable to bring myself to extinguish the boyish hope in his eyes. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Emmett laughs, loud and dirty, and somewhere beyond my own smile, I already know this was a bad decision.

**~aCoH~**


End file.
